Whump Bingo
by Brentinator
Summary: Random one shots based off of a bingo chart I made on Wattpad! Also a crossover with Teen Wolf and Mech-X4
1. Chapter 1

**This is prompt 11 out of 24 "Here, you might need something to bite on..." And this idea came from Clover-Rose on Wattpad and another user!**

 **Thanks!**

 **This will be a MCU, Teen Wolf and Mech-X4 crossover, but it will be posted under Avengers!**

 **And now, on with the story!**

"I think that's the last one." Tony turned to the others after blasting a alien in the face. "Is everyone okay?"

Several of them started to come out of the wreckage that was Queens, some with minor scratches and bruises, others in need some stitches or a cast, maybe. But then Tony started looking around, and felt his heart sink to his stomach as he questioned.

"Where's Peter?"

The team started to look around, and then proceeded to spread out and look for the sixteen year old, praying he had just been hiding from the aliens, but with his Steve-sized determination, that was very unlikely.

••••••••••••••••••••

Peter swallowed, trying not to vomit again into the already existent puddle near him that came out when he saw specks of blood...everywhere, and could tell they had come from him.

He had been knocked into a wall really, REALLY, hard when he had passed out, and woke up gasping, noticing how he was crushed under rubble.

Oh, how history repeats itself. And just like he did last time, he called out, trying not to cry.

"Hello! I'm down here! Hello!" He screamed, but it sounded more like a strangled gasp, and his side was starting to throb again, probably adrenaline wearing off, but it encouraged him to help louder. "Help me! Please!"

He put his head down, sniffing quietly to himself, almost letting himself break, and that's when he heard.

"Peter?"

And Peter looked up, seeing a familiar cloak through the cracks or where the rubble wasn't fully covering him.

"Yes! I'm down here!"

He saw the doctor pear through one of the cracks, and heard him calling everyone over, before looking back through.

"We're gonna get you out. Just breathe, okay?"

Peter swallowed before nodding, and slowly felt each weight being lifted off of him, and that's when that damn stabbing decided to get the times worse, so by the time they got to him, he was on the verge of losing the last bit of his breakfast onto the ground.

"Kid?" Tony said quietly, not wanting to hurt him more when he saw the blood matted in his hair, but when he went to touch him, he felt something slap his hand, which he drew back immediately before glaring at the cause of it.

"He has a 2x4 wooden board in his side which is pinning him to the ground. If we move him, it could be catastrophic."

"So what are we gonna do?" Tony demanded, but he kept his voice down in order not to scare Peter, even though he could tell that he was already scared.

"Do you have Peter's blood type?"

•••••••••••••••••••••

Tony came back to the hole with everything Strange had asked for just as the majority of the rubble was off of Peter. He was laying with the board facing to the side, his eyes glassy with tears as a unknown paramedic was kneeling beside him, holding his hand and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Who is that?" Tony demanded while handing the supplies to Strange, who snapped on a pair of gloves while giving a explanation.

"Dr. Christine Palmer. My old partner." He explained, before turning to her. "Switch spots with Stark."

She got up, and snapped on a pair of gloves before kneeling beside Strange on the ground while Tony went around to Peter, gently squeezing his hand.

"Hey, kid." He smiled reassuringly as Strange came around with a roll of gauze.

"Here. You might need something to bite on..." He insisted as Peter opened his mouth while he put the gauze in, then he went back around to his other side.

••••••••••••••••

Right after Christine and Strange had gotten the board out, it was madness as they got him on a stretcher, stitched up the wound on both sides, and got him on blood as fast as possible, and now Tony's doctors had taken over, checking for other injuries.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Christine asked, glancing at Peter who was now being hooked up to oxygen in the jet just past her vision and behind her old partner.

"I'm fairly confident. After all, I don't take on a job I know I'll fail." Strange smiled, which made her shake her head.

"You're impossible, Stephan." She grinned slightly before turning serious again. "Will you update me later?"

"Absolutely." He smiled, before a loud voice called. "Strange!" and he turned his head toward the voice before looking back at Christine. "That's my cue."

She nodded, and watched as he got in the jet, before turning back to the wreckage, seeing where else she was needed, all while praying the teenager was gonna be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

So I've been having a really hard time lately with personal issues (PM me if you want details) and I have no one else to thank for this one shot other then Clover-Rose on Wattpad. She really helped me out of a bind by giving me this unfinished one shot, and I'm so thankful. So go follow her and send her some well wishes (she has strep throat at the moment) and now, on with the story!

••••••••••••••••

"Come on, guys, head outside! I want six laps around the track!"

'Ugh, no,' Peter groaned as he held his head in his hands, while his stomach continued cramping uncomfortably. Of all the days he had to have PE, why did it have to be today? And it wasn't like he didn't like it either, since he actually did and became progressively better at it after the spider bite. No, it was just that his stomach was churning, his vision was spinning, and his head felt heavy and hazy.

So, yeah, you could say; he felt great...not

"Hey, dude, you okay?" The 'Guy in the Chair' had then questioned from where he sat beside his best friend and snapped the secretive superhero out of his trance.

It didn't do much though, as the superhero had just shaken his head and blinked before Ned took the chance to speak again. "Because, you... don't look so good," He spoke, slowly.

Before Peter even had a chance to speak though, Flash did. "Oh, please," He scoffed, crossing his arms, while walking past the boys on the bleachers. "Parker couldn't look good, even if he wanted to."

"Neither could you," Michelle retorted as she began to head out the gymnastic doors for the run. But, once there, she stopped walking with the bratty boy and, instead, turned back to face the two smarter ones. "Hey, losers!" She called. "You guys coming or what?"

"Give us a minute," Ned had then said, but it seemed that simple statement was enough to satisfy the decathlon captain. And, luckily, it was as she walked out without a second of suspicion after that, making the fanboy turn back to the spider-related boy.

"Hey," the best friend had then asked as he glanced back at his own best friend. "Dude, you okay?" He questioned, shaking the superhero's shoulder, slightly but softly.

Sadly, though, the superhero didn't really respond... and, even if he did, well, it wasn't by much. Because, instead of answering verbally, he had just shrugged, closed his eyes and muttered something along the lines of "I feel sick..." while his vision continued to spin and his mind continued to spiral.

"Do you wanna sit this one out, dude?" Ned questioned, concerned. "We could skip the class if you wanted to," He offered. "I can fake an illness or, try and fake an injury—"

"Ned." Peter had then deadpanned, with his head still in his hands. "You're a terrible liar, man. Remember the library and the homecoming dance?"

"Yeah, but you actually look terrible. I'm being serious here, do you wanna sit this one out? We can skip class, head down to the robotics lab..."

"There's a class down there right now," Peter pointed out, a look of pain placing itself on his face, while he continued squeezing his eyes shut. And was it just him or did that sickening feeling in his stomach seem to get worse and worse with each minute that mocked him?

"So? Mr. Carson's a cool teacher. He likes us, he'll let us down there—"

"But I don't like lying..." Peter protested, as he let a small whimper escape his lips.

"And I don't like you looking like you're either, A, gonna be sick, or, B, gonna pass out. Plus, not only that, but it's not gonna help anyone if you faint flat out on the ground."

Peter frowned, as he lifted his head from his hands, but then wrapped them around his abdomen, his nails digging into his skin. "I'm not gonna faint—"

"Really?" Ned asked, rhetorically. "Because you look like you might."

Peter, instead of rolling his eyes, just ran a hand through his hair, hoping it wouldn't aggravate his headache, while also hoping it would make it kinda better. "I'm not," He said as soon as he stood up, but quickly decided against it when his body started swaying and the room started spinning. "I–I'm fine—" He let out a deep breath as he stepped off the bench. "Let's just—Let's just head outside..."

In reply, Ned sighed. He knew there was no chance of getting Peter to give up the class. If the superhero thought he could suffer through the pain and agony, then he would; it was plain and simple. "Alright," He agreed, as the two began to head out of the gymnasium and into the rain that came pouring down on to the ground. "But, I'm staying by your side the entire time."

It's around ten minutes later when he starts huffing and puffing after the third lap. And, usually, it'd be around the first, but, since the spider-bite, his senses have practically been dialled to eleven—and that includes his agility.

"Dude, you okay?" Ned asked again as the two began to slow down. They're walking now, and, somehow, it puts the teen at ease, taking a break from the run, if just slightly. "We can take a break if you want, go get some water—"

"Hmm? No, no, I'm fine..." Peter quickly replied. The last thing he needed, with the sick feeling climbing up his throat, was water to push it back down.

Ned only shook his head. "Really?" He asked, rhetorically. "Became I don't think you are—"

"Please," Flash had then scoffed as he walked past the two boys. "Parker's never been fine. Between skipping classes and decathlon practice, I'm actually surprised he hasn't been expelled yet."

"And I'm actually surprised you're still on said team," Michelle remarked, as she came to a stop and crossed her arms. "I was thinking about kicking you off."

At this, Flash smirked. "Really?" He asked, rhetorically. "You're gonna kick off the most valuable member of the team?"

Michelle immediately shot a confused look at the boy, though her tone came out as if it was sewn with sarcasm. "What? No, why would I kick off myself?"

"What? No, I—"

Smirking, Michelle started running again and made her way over to the coach. "Coach Wilson!" She called out, sarcasm and snark seeping through her voice. "Flash is being mean to me!"

"What?!" Flash then yelled as he, too, broke into a jog to catch up with the brunette. "What the hell, Michelle?!"

But, as the two contrasting classmates faded away across the field, so did Peter's ability to walk and, before he knew it, he collapsed right there on the spot. Luckily, he caught himself on his hands and knees, but also scraped them, as he fell against the rainy, wet cement.

"Peter!" Immediately, Ned came and kneeled beside him, but so did the nauseous feeling as it crawled up his stomach and hiked through his throat. "Dude, you okay? Answer me, man!"

But, he didn't. In fact, all the superhero really did to reply was sigh and close his eyes. "F-Fine..." He managed to mumble after a minute or two, as his cheeks puffed up in an effort to inhale and exhale. "Just got... tired..."

Ned just shook his head. "I don't think you are," He disagreed. "Dude, I think you're sick..." Glancing up, the 'Guy in the Chair' immediately spotted some of their classmates staring or surrounding them and yelled, "Can somebody get Coach Wilson?"

Now it was Peter's turn to shake his head, but he quickly stopped once that made his vision spin more and made his nausea come back full force. "N-N-No..." He choked out, an acidy feeling scrambling up his sore throat. "I-I—I'm alright, I-I'm fine. I-I can last the—the class," The superhero said as he curled his fingers into fists, before he stopped to cough.

"I don't think you can, man..." Ned trailed off, as he kept an arm around the superhero's shoulders, trying to keep him awake, while also trying to keep an eye on the teacher coming towards the two. "But just hold on, 'kay? Help's coming, so don't fall asleep on me—figuratively, or literally."

"Mhmm..." Nodding slightly, though, as Peter rested his head on the crook of Ned's neck, he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut more and more.

And then, he was cast in the dark.

•••••••••••••••

The first thing that returned was sound; voices, to be more specific.

Then his ability to touch, and then his ability to see... Ned, hovering over him, concernedly.

Which was... weird, to say the least.

"Ugh... Ned?" The superhero questioned as he slowly began to sit up, only to have his best friend push him back down again.

His stomach was still twisting and turning, as well as his blurry vision spinning, but now his head seemed to hurt even more than it did before—'though,' the superhero thought. 'That was probably from slamming it on the cement.' "W-What happened?" The teen asked, as the cool cloth that was on his forehead fell to the edge of the bed, only for Ned to set it back on him again.

"You collapsed in PE, man... Right in the middle of the track." the 'Guy in the Chair' had then added. Then, as he gestured around the room, the superhero also took a look at it—at the baby blue walls, and dull, white tiles—and scanned his surroundings. A clock also tick-tocked in the corner and despite how much the teen wanted to ignore it, he couldn't; it rang continuously in his ears, dragging him back to the darkness, until he finally caught on to something Ned said.

"Wait, what?" The teen repeated. "Repeat that, please."

Ned looked at the boy, concerned and a bit quizzical, but did so anyway. "I said that you're in the nurse's office. I had to carry you here, though, but Mr. Stark's coming to pick you up in a few minutes, since May wasn't answering her phone—"

In response, Peter nodded, slowly beginning to close his eyes. "Yeah," He muttered, feeling a familiar sensation of sleep overtake his senses. "Her—Her boss is strict on—on cell phone policies..."

Ned only shrugged. "Yeah, I figured," He agreed. "But Mr. Stark's supposed to pick you up, Peter, and you get to go to the Avengers compound! You have to invite me sometime!"

And that's when Peter caught on.

Because Mr. Stark was coming to pick him up? From school, while he was sick and literally just passed out in class? No, no, no—he absentmindedly shook his head, but just assumed Ned would guess he was trying to clear his vision or get rid of his headache—that could not happen. What if he got his suit taken away again? What if Mr. Stark saw him as weak and thought he wasn't ready to become an Avenger? Sure, he turned down the invitation, but that didn't necessarily mean that the offer wasn't still open...

"You need anything, man?" Ned then asked, snapping the superhero out of his trance. "Otherwise I'm just gonna grab your things out of the gym and then after Mr. Stark comes, I'll head back to class."

"N-N-No..." The teen stopped and paused, as he slowly turned on his side and pulled the soft cotton over his shoulders. "I-I think I'm g-g-good f-for now..." He whispered, his teeth chattering and shoulders shivering as he did so, even with the baggy school sweatshirt and blanket that currently covered his skinny figure.

"'Kay, cool." Nodding, Ned had then stood up and began to make his way to the doorframe. "Just gimmie a sec, but try and rest till then." Chuckling, he had then added, "We don't need you fainting again," before he left.

"Mhmm." Nodding in response, the superhero had then faked a sleepy sigh, though it came out much more real than he actually expected, and watched as his sidekick left the room.

And, it was lucky he did, because, if Ned left, then that meant there was no watching him... which, also, meant the superhero was totally free to leave. So, scrambling out of the sheets, the boy had taken his chance and ventured off, right into the rainy, city streets of New York, Queens.

•••••••••••••••••

Peter groaned as he declined another call from Ned, trying not to puke once again.

He knew Ned was just scared, but it was either go back to the apartment and scare the shit out of May, or let Tony Stark see how weak he was, so he decided to just try and feel better in the middle of Queens, praying no one he knew saw him.

He ended up gripping onto a fire hydrant, trying not to barf or pass out when he heard a female voice ask if he was okay.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." He stuttered, letting a shiver go through his body before he glanced at the blonde teenage girl, who proceeded to introduce herself.

"Oh, I'm Gwen Stacy. I go to Winston's academy. Anyway, are you okay? Should I call-oh my god!" She screeched, before starting to shout. "Someone! Help me, please!"

Because Peter had thrown up on her before hitting his head on the fire hydrant on his way down.

••••••••••••••••••

Peter winced as he felt his head throbbing when he came back to consciousness.

He was on something soft, some sort of bed, and there was something freezing on his forehead, but it felt amazing.

He finally managed to crack his eyes open to see Mr. Stark with a quiet but angry look on his face as he spoke into the phone.

"Again, I am very sorry, Greg. If I had known, he never would have been at school, let alone in the streets with a 105 fever. Okay. Bye."

Peter swallowed as a shiver wracked his body as Tony stood awkwardly beside the bed Peter was laying in.

"What the hell was that, Peter? Going to school while sick, going into the city while it is raining, and scaring your aunt so much she filed a police report. If you hadn't passed out after throwing up on Greg's daughter, you would've died. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yeah, I do." He shivered again, before asking. "Where's May?"

"No, we're not done yet. I still don't know why you went into Queens while it was raining and you felt like shit. That's not okay, Pete."

Peter held in a cry, as he whispered to himself. "Cause Avengers can't be weak..."

"Peter, you have to understand something." Tony told him, sitting by his feet and setting his hand on his knee.

"Being strong isn't just determined by your muscles. It's doing something even if you aren't sure it will go well. If you are willing to save everyone before yourself." He smiled , before clarifying. "I'm not saying become like Rogers and don't practice self-care, but if you can put others before yourself sometimes, then you are so much stronger then Thor, or Hulk, or anyone else. Do you understand?"

Peter nodded, still clutching the sheets, and looked up to see Tony smiling, before he stood up and clapped his leg. "I'll get your aunt. That is, after I wash my hands. Because trust me, the last thing we need is both of us getting sick."


	3. Chapter 3

**Suggested by unicorncantremember on Wattpad! Prompt 19**

"Ned! Your dad and I are heading out!"

Ned turned his swivel chair to his mom and stood up, hugging her.

"I'll see you tomorrow after school." She said, kissing his forehead. "Is Peter still coming tonight?"

"Yeah, as far as I know."

"Okay. There's money for pizza on the counter. Call me if you need anything."

"I will." Ned insisted, as she kissed his forehead a second time. "Bye. I love you."

"Love you too." His mother insisted, before leaving the room and going to the car with Ned's father.

He sat back down at his desk, and continued to breeze through his homework for twenty minutes, and when Peter still hadn't gotten there, he texted him, before picking up his knitting and turned on Star Wars for background noise.

By the time Luke had blown up the Death Star, Peter still hadn't shown up, so Ned was almost to the point of calling him, when he heard a knock at his window and saw Peter outside.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw him and opened the window so his friend could climb inside.

"You scared the shit out of me, Peter. I was about to call you."

"Um, I would stay scared shitless if I were you." Peter insisted with a swallow, as he lowered himself from the ceiling and turned toward him, a hand over his suit, where blood was coming down from it and starting to drip onto the floor.

Ned swallowed harshly. He had never been good with blood, but he knew that his first aid training he had gotten after the incident at Coney Island was bound to be used one day, even if they never did teach him how to do stitches, just how to stop the blood flow.

"Okay, um...lay on the floor. I'm gonna go get the first aid kit and be right back." He insisted, running to the bathroom, and starting to go through the cabinets, quickly finding the first aid kit and grabbing it, before going to his parents room.

His mom and dad both worked at the hospital (neurologist and E.R. nurse, respectively) and his dad always kept a suture kit under the bed in case of a emergency where the person would bleed out before they got to the hospital.

Ned quickly grabbed it, and went back into his room, closing the door behind him as he sat beside the clear stab wound on Peter's left side (Peter had pulled the shot down to his waistline as well as taken off the mask), grabbing gloves and gauze out of the kit, pressing it on his side after putting the gloves on, causing him to suck in a breath.

"So what happened?" Ned asked, grabbing more gauze when he saw the blood quickly leaking through the gauze. "Cause this looks bad."

"I was finishing patrol for the night, and I saw a drug deal happening, can't remember if it was opioids or cocaine, so I went to stop it, and-" he stopped to swallow as he looked down at the wound, seeing the blood gushing against the gauze, as well as the scowl on Ned's face. "The guy who was buying them ran, and the guy who was selling them grabbed a...a ice pick, I think, from his pocket, and just went at me. He must've gotten me five or six times before I got away. I knew I couldn't make it upstate or back to my own apartment, so I came here, cause my only other option was MJ, and..."

"I know she doesn't know yet." Ned insisted, knowing that stopping the bleeding was becoming least likely to happen. "Peter, I'm gonna need to stitch you up, okay?"

"You know how to do that?"

"No, but I can knit hats, so I can probably stitch you up. Plus, both my parents are doctors. I know some things."

"Okay..." Peter said breathlessly, starting to get dizzy and tired. "Go fast, before I pass out."

Ned nodded, and sterilized the wound before threading the needle, and without hesitation, started to stitch up his best friend, having to ignore the sounds of him whimpering, trying not to cry.

••••••••••••••••

"Done." Ned said breathlessly, the adrenaline wearing off as he fought not to pass out himself. "Just lay there while I clean up, and then I'll drive you to the compound."

"W-wait. Why are you taking me to the compound."

"One, my dad doesn't keep blood in our house for emergency transfusions, and two, you were stabbed with a ice pick and haven't had a tetanus shot since you were 7, and if it's been more then five years, which, it's been nine, then you need another one."

"You don't know where the compound is." Peter tried to protest as Ned threw out the bloody gloves and used equipment, before starting to wipe the floor.

"You think I didn't scan Upstate New York on Google Maps once I heard they were relocating to find it? Yeah, it took two hours, but I found it, and I have it saved on my phone."

"But it's two hours away."

"And I'd rather drive for two hours to keep you from contracting tetanus then let you die. I know you don't like needles, and I just had to sew you up, but you need it, Peter. You know you do."

"Fine." Peter groaned, starting to stand up, but Ned stopped him.

"Your suit is half on and you'll pull the stitches."

"Fine." Peter groaned, grabbing his phone from a now visible pocket on the suit, and speed dialing one of the numbers, before pressing it to his ear. "Hey, Mr. Stark...yeah, I'm aware it's almost two a.m., but you said to call you if I got hurt."

••••••••••••••

"Well, good news, Peter." Tony looked up at him after examing the stitches. "Ned actually did this correctly, which means we don't have to rip it out and redo it."

"Yay." Peter smiled slightly, before going back to picking at the band-aid over where he was (rudely, he might add) stabbed with a needle.

"I'll call May, you go to sleep."

Tony walked out of the med-bay after that, after setting the lights to Peter's settings, before turning to Ned.

"Thanks for doing that, Ned."

"Well, I wasn't gonna let him bleed out. I'm just glad my parents taught me that stuff when I was younger, on top of the first aid course I did earlier this year." Ned rambled, being so flustered by the fact that he was talking to TONY FREAKING STARK and was doing everything not to fanboy.

"Well, Peter will be here till tomorrow afternoon, and he's being supervised, so Happy will take you home. Just remember to give him the address." Ned nodded, starting to walk where Happy was, when he heard. "And hey."

"Yes?"

"Have Peter give you my number in case this happens again."

Ned nodded, and held in a grin wider then Saturn's rings as he followed Happy to the limo, before sending a text to Peter.

Ned: Tony Stark is WAY cooler then you said, liar!


	4. Chapter 4

"Do I even want to know why you're in a tree?" Derek groaned as he looked up at the wrangly teenager balancing his weight on a bending branch as he was reaching toward the middle of it.

"Well, I figured it would be harder for someone like, I don't know, your psychotic uncle, to get us if we had a tree hideout. So I'm scoping out trees in the area."

"Just get out of the damn tree before you fall and kill yourself."

"Relax, Sourwolf." Stiles waved him away with his hand as he moved away from the middle and down the small branch. "I get it, you're just worried about me."

"No, I'm not, I just don't wanna be a witness to your death." He moved closer toward him so if he did indeed fall, he could keep him from breaking his ass and whining about it. "Get down."

"I'm coming dow- SHIT!" Stiles screamed as the branch gave out, and he was unable to grab anything as he barrled down toward the concrete.

In the split second he was in the air, he braced himself for a hard landing, but instead, he landed on something somewhat soft, and that's when he heard.

"Get. Off. Me."

Stiles started to scramble off of him, but that's when the adrenaline started wearing off, and-shit his shoulder hurt really bad. So he started to fall back down, but he felt someone grab his good shoulder, and gently lay him on the ground.

He turned to see Derek looking at him with concern, a arm wrapped around his own ribs as he lowered himself to the ground.

"Once I heal, we'll deal with you..." He panted, looking up at the clouds and the damn tree he vowed to chop down one day. "Just...stay awake."

•••••••••••••••••••••

Derek swallowed harshly as he came back to consciousness, and while he could tell that he wasn't on the sidewalk anymore, he knew he had been in this position before...and it was not a good one.

What made it worse, however, was the female voice crooning in his ear.

"What's the matter? Aren't you comfortable? I made sure the chains were top-of-the-line!"

That was enough for him to snap his eyes open and glare at the owner of the deep, slightly aggressive voice.

"Don't look at me like that, Derek." Kate Argent pouted slightly at her ex's frown. "I'll give you and your friend back in time. But first, I figured I could have some fun."

"So? Kill me already. You already know that Cora would probably be the only one who would give a shit."

"Derek, Derek, Derek..." She gently stroked his hair, despite his efforts to flinch away from her. "Relax, darling. I'm not going to kill you. My hobby is torture, and dead people are exceedingly hard to torture, wouldn't you agree?"

Before he could answer, however, she pulled a cord hanging from a single light bulb above another section of chained mess, even though there was another person in this one, which made the ex alpha almost throw up.

Because that "person" was Stiles, and he was in horrible shape.

"Yeah, he woke up about a hour ago." Kate said when she saw Derek's shocked face. " But, I figured that we should all be awake for the show, so let me know when he wakes up. I'm gonna go get my things."

And with that, she walked out of the room, and everything in Derek hoped for Scott, Lydia or Malia to burst through the door and get Stiles out of that position, something that he had a feeling would screw Stiles up a lot more then he already was.

Then he heard a whimper.

It was quiet and laced with pain, but it was there. Derek leaned as close to Stiles as possible, and whispered.

"Dude, pretend to be asleep and be quiet."

But Stiles' dark brown eyes snapped open, full of terror and pain, as he turned his head to Derek. But before the older male could warn him, he saw Kate come back in.

"Sorry about knocking you out, Stiles. But, I figured that Derek shouldn't miss out on our fun." She smiled sweetly, as she set up a tripod and camera.

"What's that for, skank?" Stiles growled under his breath, earning a glare from Kate.

"Just gonna send this recording to your dear old dad. After all, shouldn't be be part of this?" She asked gently, running her fingers through the teen's hair before going to click record, and that's when Derek demanded.

"Why are you doing this to him? I'm your ex. I'm the one you have a problem with!"

"Well, tw reasons. One, I know that even if you are a former alpha, you have that instinct to protect your pack. Two, you heal too fast. Stiles heals normally for a human, so, it'll have a longer impact. After all, I said that we needed to keep you alive. Didn't say it was gonna be painless." She insisted, before flipping on the camera, and saying to the two boys. "Smile for the camera."

The little record light turned from off to red, and that's when Derek snapped, before Kate even did anything.

"Your fight is with me, Kate! Let him go!" He was pushing hard against the chains, which had clearly been reinforced so he couldn't get out.

Instead, she ignored him, and walked straight up to Stiles with a knife in hand, trading his face with it.

"You have such a pretty face, Stiles, I must admit. Probably shouldn't ruin it. But maybe we should deal with this hair. After all, this reminds me a bit of a vengeful spirit, and well, we don't agree with those."

She then proceeded to grab a lock of his hair with force, and started to saw at it with the knife, making sure to pull and tug at every chance she got, making him whimper, but he bit his lip in order to mask the screams.

Derek, however, wasn't going to stand buy and watch Kate physiologically damage Stiles more, even to the point of manipulation. Like she had done to him when he was 16.

"Leave him alone!" Derek yelled, before pain filled his jaw, causing his head to fly toward the left , and Kate smirked, returning to Stiles' hair, till it was cut short with bangs, something he was not okay with.

"Now, we should probably do something about your weight." She said, pinching his side between her nails. "After all, the nogitsune was associated with being pale and sickly. But, first , we should do something about your skin tone."

She loosened the chains so Stiles would be released from the wall, but so his hand were still chained to his side, irritating his collarbone.

She grabbed the chains around his back, before picking up the tripod, with the camera still on it, which she turned off, and led Stiles down a hall, where Derek couldn't see.

So, he pushed against the chains. He pushed, tugged, pulled, anything he could go get to Stiles, but, the chains just dug into his wrists, causing them to get raw and bloody.

And that's when the screams started.

They were loud, and ear piercing. Clearly a mixture of fear and immense pain, with tears as well, and Derek heard loud yells of Stiles snapping at Kate, telling her that she was the worst person to walk the earth, and that he would kill her, which only scared him more as to what she was doing to him.

After five hours of yelling and screaming, Kate finally threw Stiles back into the room, and locked the door, leaving with the camera still.

Then, the chains on Derek's wrists slacked, and he fell to the ground, so he went over to Stiles, and was shocked at what he saw.

His collarbone was back in place and his arms was no longer chained, but the right one was in a sling made out of toilet paper, his skin was now orange from a spray tan, but the worst part was the tears he had been forced to hold in, finally coming down his face.

Derek tilted Stiles' head toward him so their eyes met, tears brimming at the edges.

"You're not the nogitsune, Stiles." The older male insisted, squeezing the brunette's hand. "You are better then all of that."

Stiles swallowed back tears, and grasped onto Derek's hoodie, letting the tears call down his face as the pain in his shoulder, head and stomach got worse.

"D-don't leave me alone..."

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' now short hair, gently shushing him like he would after Cora had a nightmare.

"I won't, Stiles. I won't."

•••••••••••••••••

Three days. Derek remembered three days clearly, mainly consisting of him holding Stiles to his chest and wondering where the hell Kate went, especially if she got a kick out of hurting both of them so much.

But after those three days, time seemed to blend and morph. He was unsure of what was going on, with the exception of the fact that he was still holding onto Stiles like a mother holds onto her child.

Then he started to hear men and women yelling. He held onto Stiles tighter, and then he heard a clear voice he knew well.

"Stiles!"

Derek managed to sit up, immediately wanting to lay back down to the dizziness flooding his vision, as he gently shook Stiles awake.

"Stiles, your dad is here. You gotta sit up so we can get to him."

" I-I don't wanna...I can't..."

"You're okay, Stiles." Derek insisted, gently squeezing his hand. "We're gonna go home."

"C-can't..."

"Okay." Derek insisted and covered Stiles' ears with his hands before shouting. "We're in here!"

But before the police could break down the door, Derek's vision went black, and everything went silent.

••••••••••••••

Derek groaned as he returned to consciousness. Everything hurt and he was still confused about everything... Then he opened his eyes and saw Scott sitting in the room, chewing at his nail.

"Scott?" Derek tried to ask, but it came out as a whisper as he started to sit up. "What's going on?"

"Oh, thank god you're awake. You're in the hospital. You and Stiles were missing for almost five days. Kate took you guys, but was arrested. It took almost two days of interrogation to get a address out of her."

Derek nodded in confirmation, before he got a bitter taste in his mouth and asked. "How's Stiles?"

"He, um...he's not in good shape. He's not really talking to anyone except his dad. He was really badly tortured psychologically."

Derek nodded again, looking up at the ceiling, before starting to drift off again with one thought in mind.

'Hopefully Stiles will be okay'


	5. Chapter 5

**Prompt 12: Just Keep Pressure On It**

 **Suggested by Clover-Rose on Wattpad**

•••••••••••

"This isn't gonna work, you two." Michelle insisted as the three of them got on the roof of the apartment complex that Peter lived in.

She sat down with the book she was currently reading and glanced over it to see Ned and Peter setting up. "You're gonna set the whole damn complex on fire."

"I've made this work before, MJ." Peter insisted, stopping to put on his safety goggles. "Ye of little faith."

"I like to think it's ye of being rational, but that works too." She insisted as Ned came up with the bag of ice.

"Are we even going to be able to start a fire up here? It's freezing." He insisted, rubbing his hands together as soon as he set the bag on the ground.

"Yeah, we will. The wind might put it out though. Get your glasses." He insisted, before putting the chunk of ice on the ground. "MJ, you wanna get the alcohol?"

"Sure. Might as well get the fire extinguisher too, losers." She closed her book, and grabbed the fire extinguisher while handing him the rubbing alcohol.

He poured it into a small metal bowl, while Ned used the tongs to soak the ice thoroughly, and then set it on the ground.

Peter grabbed the kitchen lighter, flicked it on, and bent down close to the fire, touching the flame to the ice.

But, instead of a cute dancing flame, there was a explosion that had enough force to throw Peter back a few feet.

Michelle jumped into action, and started using the fire extinguisher, biting her lip as the contents covered the ice and the rest of the roof, before she finally turned it off.

And when the adrenaline started wearing off, that's when she saw what had happened to Peter.

He was crumpled to the ground, barely conscious and most likely incoherent. Not only that, but his jacket was literally burned off his body and was now showing a large blistering wound, along with the blood that was dripping down his left temple.

Ned, luckily, jumped into action and had torn off some of the paper towels they had brought to to the roof, before putting it on his head and gently leading his hand up to it.

"Keep that there, Peter," he instructed. "Just put pressure on it, okay? You gotta stay awake."

Wincing, Peter held the paper towels up to his head and did as Ned said. "But h'rts," he managed to mumble.

Ned looked sad and he was obviously worried, but he pushed them aside and focused on the matter at hand. "I know," he agreed. "But you're gonna be okay, alright? MJ and I are gonna take care of you, dude."

Peter, being half-conscious and obviously incoherent, didn't respond. It wasn't like Ned was expecting him to, though, so instead he turned to MJ and directed her on what to do.

"Help me get him downstairs," Ned instructed, gently using one hand to slip under his back while using the other to support his head.

Michelle lifted his legs, and used her other hand to go under his back, and, together, they got Peter downstairs and on the couch while Ned called an ambulance.

"Peter... You need to stay awake." She insisted, trying not to look down at the large chemical burn covering his abdomen, and, instead, focusing on his eyes and face.

"B't I'm t'red," The mumbled, his hand slowly growing more limp as the paper towels fell from his grip.

Before they could actually reach the ground, though, Michelle took them and pressed them back to his head. Then, gently squeezing Peter's hand, she had only hoped that he'd be okay and that the ambulance was on the way.

•••••••••••••••

Michelle looked down at her nails as the clock ticked in the waiting room. She and Ned had been there for a couple of hours after May had come home, and despite her offer to take them home, both of them were too worried to go to sleep.

She glanced around, noticing how quiet it was. There was a man and woman holding hands, the woman heavily pregnant, a little girl playing with a toy in her hands on a man's lap, covering her mouth every couple minutes to cough loudly, and then a man who seemed to have absolutely nothing wrong with him.

She turned to see Ned holding a Lego figurine in his hand, glancing up at the clock before turning to her. "How long has May been back there?"

"Fifteen minutes." Michelle said, turning back to the science magazine she was pretending to read.

"I hope he's okay." Ned insisted, before letting out a yawn, and going back to his figure in his hand.

Michelle was about to fall asleep when she heard the door click, and May came out into the hall. Her hair was frizzy and she looked tired, but she also looked relieved.

"How is he?" Peter's best friend asked as both of them stood up.

"Well, he has stitches in his head, and he obviously has that huge chemical burn, but he's gonna be okay. They wanna keep him for a couple of days, to make sure the burn doesn't get infected."

Both Michelle and Ned let out sighs of relief at the news that he was gonna be okay.

"But, because it's so late, they told me to tell you that visiting hours start tomorrow at ten a.m."

Michelle nodded, picking up her bag, before turning to Ned.

"I'll give you a ride home, loser."


	6. Chapter 6

**it's finally done and it's Friday PST when I'm posting this! Also, these will be posted the closest Friday as to when I'm finished, no longer every single week.**

 **Prompt: When all of this is over, you have my permission to throw up on me.**

 **Thanks for the help, Star!**

 **And now, on with the story!**

Ned's used to worrying about Peter as Spider-Man.

Of course, being the good friend he was, he did worry about Peter before he became Spider-Man, but that was mostly because of the panic attacks he had, and Flash. And it wasn't like getting beat up on a daily basis was helping, by any means.

However, as he sat there in decathlon practice, Ned wasn't sure if there was a time he'd ever been more worried than in that exact moment.

Long story short, Peter had disappeared for a so-called "short patrol" at lunch. That was over two hours ago, and Ned knew it because he kept checking his watch every five minutes. And, now, over two hours later, he was still gone, and Ned didn't know what to do.

Peter has promised he'd be at decathlon practice. He promised.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?" The sidekick had snapped out of his trance and back into reality, as soon as he heard someone call his name. Seeing as all he had been doing was scrolling through his messages for the past ten minutes, he sighed and tucked his phone away, before meeting eyes with Mr. Harrington, their decathlon advisor. "Sorry. What's up?"

"I just wanted to ask if you were okay," The man spoke. "I know Peter isn't here today, and it's always kind of nerve-wracking when one of our members isn't here—"

'But he was supposed to be,' Ned thought to himself.

"—But I want you to let me know if you need a break, okay?"

Ned nodded, though the conversation didn't really sink in all that much. "Yeah," he agreed. "Okay, Thanks."

Mr. Harrington nodded and clapped his hands as he faced the stage and the rest of the teammates. "Okay," he announced. "Time to get to work. Michelle, you have those flash cards I asked for?"

For the next fifteen, or thirty, or forty-five minutes, Ned listened in as the team answered questions about art, music, science, and math, and did his best to answer a question every here and there. However, it couldn't have been more than an hour when he finally got a text that seemed to be from Peter.

Peter, 4:12 p.m.: Ned? N3ed 2atêr.

Ned, 4:12 p.m.: ?

Peter, 4:14 p.m.: stuuck.

Ned, 4:14 p.m.: I'll come get you. Can you send me your location?

Peter, 4:15 p.m.: B'athroommmm...

Ned excused himself, before practically racing down the hall to the bathroom, and what he saw wasn't good at all.

Peter was curled up in a ball, his head resting against on the wall as he shivered. And to make matters worse, Ned could see vomit staining his shirt, as well as a thick layer of sweat on his forehead.

"Peter?" the boy called as he knelt down beside his best friend and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey? I got your water, are you awake?"

"Mhm." Seemingly half-conscious, the teenager opened his eyes, but it didn't really do any good as they were just glassy and unfocused. "Ye'h," he muttered. "'M aw'ke. M' ok'y."

Ned raised an eyebrow at this, confused, but decided not to comment on it. Instead, he had only muttered a short "Okay, well, drink some water, alright? You need some fluids in you, dude," before unscrewing the cap and handling the blue water bottle to him.

Except, Peter didn't take it, so Ned had to act as calm as he could, and press the bottle against Peter's lips in order to get him to drink it, before he closed the cap and decided to settle it between the two.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

"Dunno," Peter whispered, his voice barely audible, as he rested his head in the crook of Ned's neck. "Thro't hurts. H-He'd hurts. Think I p'ssed out 'nd hit it, m'ybe? I don't... I d'n't rem'mber."

"Do you think Karen has any of the footage?" Ned questioned, concerned. If she did, then it was best to go over it, so he could be sure no one discovered Peter's identity ('cause with your best friend being concussed, you could never be too careful).

"Prob'bly," Peter breathed. "M'sk is in my b'g. Un'er the si'k, I th'nk. Room's sp'nn'ng."

"Alright." Ned nodded. "Alright, just let me go back to decathlon practice and I'll text May, okay? And then, if she isn't home, I'll bring you to—"

"N't a hosp'tal," Peter muttered. "Secret ident'ty. Sci'nce exper'ments. Sp'der DNA. No th'nks."

"Okay, not a hospital," Ned decided. "What about Mr. Stark then? Is he at the compound?"

"Nuh," Peter said as he shook his head, and brought another bout of nausea with him. "B-Bus'ness tr'p."

"Alright, I'll bring you to my house then, if May isn't home. My parents are at work and my sister's at a sleepover, so it should be okay. You cool with that?"

"P'ke...I need-" He was cut off by a gag, and lunged toward the stall. Ned lifted him enough by the armpits and turned his head as his friend vomited.

When the noises subsided, and he heard the toilet flush, he moved Peter away, and grabbed the toilet paper, handing it to Peter.

"Clean your face, I'm gonna go get my bag and then we'll head to my house. When all of this is over, you have my permission to throw up on me."

Peter nodded, and Ned went back toward decathalon, but didn't plan on barging in while they were doing the last questions.

"There you are. You can join us for the last three questions." Mr. Harrington smiled as Ned walked past him and grabbed his bag.

"Sorry, Mr. Harrington, I've gotta take care of my sick...spider."

MJ was just as confused as everyone else, so she got off the raised floor and caught up to Ned. "Ned, what is going on?!" She hissed, holding his arm tightly.

"Peter. He's not feeling good at all and threw up in the bathroom. I think he's got a concussion."

"You need to take him to a hospital. And don't try and insist that cause your parents are both in the medical field that you can take care of him. That's bullshit."

"I'll see you later." He insisted, and with that, he ran out of the room, leaving MJ to sigh before taking her place back on the stage.

"Okay," Ned said, as he cast a glance at Peter while walking him down the hallway, with his arm swung over his shoulder. "Just… be quiet when we get to my apartment, alright? 'Cause even though I don't think my parents are home, I have really nosey neighbours, and the last thing I need is to have them asking questions."

"Mhm'kay," Peter mumbled, his voice practically gone, but it wasn't like there was a way for him to disobey the order, even if he wanted to. And, thing was, he didn't want to. In fact, all he really wanted was take a shower, brush his teeth, and take a nap.

"Alright," Ned replied, as he came to a stop at the front of an old, paint-chipped door. Wriggling the doorknob a few times to see it was locked, he sighed before searching his coat pockets for the key his parents gave him. "Shit," he whispered. "Where is it?"

However, it seemed as if Ned didn't need his key as, at that moment, the door opened and the two boys came face to face with Ned's mother. "Ned! Peter!" She shrieked, ushering them inside and helping Ned bring his friend in, as soon as she caught sight of the sick (and injured) kid. "Oh my God! What happened?!" she asked.

"Concussion," Ned explained, as he helped his mom lead Peter to the bathroom, and then helped the injured teen lie down on the ground. "Think it was during gym class," he lied. "But the symptoms didn't show up until the end of decathlon, so I don't know."

"Okay." Ned's mom nodded. "We're gonna need the first aid kit from the kitchen, so go get that. And maybe some blankets, a clean shirt, a pillow, and an ice pack, too, will you?"

"On it." Ned insisted, running out of the room, quickly returning with the supplies she asked for.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She insisted, putting the pillow under Peter's head and slipped his dirty shift off, changing him into the Disneyland shirt. "Do you know what he's sick with?" She asked as she opened the first aid kit and turned the thermometer on, before gently placing it under his sleeve.

"I know he can't really talk. He also threw up, but that was probably the concussion."

His mother nodded, and took the thermometer out after it had beeped. "102.5. That's not great." She sighed, before grabbing the small pen light out of the first aid kit while Ned held the ice against Peter's head and draped a blanket over him. "Can you help me open his mouth?"

Ned nodded, and gently opened Peter's mouth while she clicked on the pen light. That was when Peter started waking up.

"Ow..."

"Peter, it's Amy Leeds, Ned's mom. Ned's here too. Do you know what day it is?"

"Sep'tember eight-teenth. N-name is P'ter Parker, f-from Qu'ens."

"That rules out memory loss. Peter, I need you to open your mouth widely so I can see your throat."

Peter responded by opening his mouth, and Amy clicked on the pen light, shining it into his mouth for a few minutes before clicking it off and telling him that he could close his mouth before turning to her anxious son.

"It's strep. He has all the tell tale signs that you can see without him being fully responsive. He needs to be in the hospital. His concussion needs to be under observation and he needs antibiotics."

"Mom, no!" Ned protested, a panicked and wild look in his eyes that showed they were filled with worry. "Peter… he—his aunt, May, works at a hospital! Do you know how worried and scared she'll be if she finds he was admitted to one?"

Amy took a deep breath and looked from Ned, to Peter, to Ned again, before she spoke. "I know," she responded. "But, Ned, as a mother, I can guarantee you that she'll be even more worried and scared if he doesn't receive medical treatment."

Ned sighed, and tried something else. "But Peter doesn't like hospitals, Mom! He has bad experiences in them. You know what happened the last time he was in one, right?"

Amy nodded. "Yes, sweetie, I know," she stated, knowing that the last time Peter was in a hospital it was because of his uncle's death. "But I can't handle a concussion by myself, okay? I'm only an ER nurse, I have limited knowledge; you know that."

Ned cast a look in Peter's direction, eyes beginning to water. He knew Peter wasn't anywhere close to death (or maybe he was, but, God, he hoped not), but it still felt like he failed. If he couldn't even protect Peter's secret identity, then how good of a 'Guy in the Chair' could he be?

"Sweetheart," Amy spoke, as she took the ice pack and settled it back against Peter's head, all while noticing her son's sad face. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

Ned blinked back his tears, as he looked at his mother again. "He can't go to a hospital, Mom," he whispered, his voice broken. "I know it sounds weird, and ridiculous, and I know you just want to do the best thing for him, but he can't, okay? He can't."

Ned's mom looked lost. As a nurse, she knew she had signed some papers that had said she would always do the right thing, no matter what. But, as she looked back from Ned's unhappy eyes, and Peter's pale face, she knew that promise was about to be broken.

"Fine," she gave in. "I'm not gonna send him to the hospital, but I know his aunt works until eight, when it's late, so I still want him to have a doctor's opinion, alright? Either from the clinic down the street, or from the guy a few doors down, I don't care as long as he has one."

"Isn't that guy a fake doctor, though?" Ned questioned.

"That's his brother," Amy answered. "Now, go. And call your father and tell him that he has to come back at six-thirty tonight, alright? We… might need his help with this," she admitted.

••••••••••••••••

"Hey, I'm home." Tom Leeds called as he put his keys in the small bowl outside of the door before coming into the main room where Amy was hovering over the couch. "Ned called, said there was a emergency."

Amy just waved him over, her thumb pressed against her lip, and when Tom saw that Peter was on the couch and wrapped in a blanket, his son sitting beside him with a hand on his friend's ankle, he gently pulled his wife away and asked.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Strep throat, and a concussion of sorts. No memory loss, but he puked at least twice at the school, he's dizzy, his speech is off, and he's dazed. I don't know what's from the strep and what's from the concussion."

"He needs to be in the hospital."

"He can't go. Ned begged me not to take him, that's why I asked you to come home early."

"He needs rest. There is no doubt in my mind that it's a concussion, even without examining him. He needs antibiotics though for the strep. We both know that."

"We'll take him home once May is there, but I don't want him to be alone."

Tom nodded and sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, first thing's first," he said, as he went back into doctor mode. "He needs medicine, so I'm gonna write him a penicillin prescription, but it needs to be delivered to the nearest place right away, so it can be filled by tomorrow morning. Do you know what time the nearest Walgreen's closes?"

"Probably in like, twenty, thirty minutes?" Amy said, sheepishly. "They're not open late on Tuesdays, I know that for sure."

"Alright." Tom agreed. Setting his briefcase down on the coffee table in front of the two boys, he had then pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it, before handing it to his wife. "Take this, go get it filled out. I'm going to stay here, take care of Peter, maybe see if I can get him to stay awake long enough so that I can examine him, or get him something to drink. Do you know if he's able to keep down any fluids?"

Ned, seeing as he could contribute to this part of the conversation, shook his head as he spoke up from his spot on the couch. "I gave him some water around an hour or two ago," he volunteered, "when he came to me for help. But he couldn't even keep it down for a few seconds, before it just came back up."

"Okay." Tom nodded. "Amy, go get that prescription filled," he said, as he shooed his wife out the door. "Ned," He stated as he turned to his son. "I want you to make Peter some tea, okay? If he threw up earlier, it's probably gonna settle in his stomach easier than something cold will."

"On it." Ned nodded as he got off the couch and went to the kitchen while Tom came over to the couch, sitting in the same spot his son was just sitting.

"Peter, I need you to wake up so I can check you over."

Peter let out a small whimper as he opened his tired and burning eyes, seeing the blurry figure that he recognized as Ned's dad.

"H'urts..."

"What hurts?" Thomas asked as he turned on his pen light, gently tapping Peter's cheek as he started to drift off again. "Kid, you need to stay awake."

"Eyes burn..."

"Alright, well I need you to follow this light with your eyes."

And with that, Thomas shined the dim light at Peter's eyes, and gently started to move it with Peter eyes slowly following it.

"Tea's ready!" Ned yelled from the kitchen while his father clicked off the light.

"G'ive me the tea." Peter mumbled in a robotic sounding voice before pressing his cheek against the couch, which led Thomas to look up at Ned, who was holding the mug while coming into the living room.

"Is this one of those memes?"

"Peter's recently discovered Shane Dawson." Ned insisted as he set the mug on the coffee table, before turning to his dad. "Can I do anything else?"

"Keep him awake. Your mom should be back soon, and we need to make sure he's able to be taken to his aunt."

Ned nodded, and sat near his best friend's head on the floor, before grabbing the mug. "Hey, man. I need you to drink this tea. I didn't burn it."

Peter cracked his eyes open and turned his head to Ned, taking the mug in his shaking hands, before propping himself on one elbow, using the other to hold the mug and drink the contents.

"N't bad."

Thomas started getting off of the couch when there was a sharp knock at the door, so he opened it, seeing Peter's aunt near tears and Amy who was clearly tired.

"I lost my key, and I saw May in the hall on her way up. I explained everything." His wife insisted as the two came inside the apartment.

"May?" Peter asked as he blinked a few times and set the mug down.

"Text me next time." She begged as she hugged him, running her hand through his hair. "All you gotta do is say you're heading to Ned's."

"C'uld'nt type."

"Let's just get you home." She insisted, helping him off the couch, keeping a arm around Peter's shoulder, before turning to Tom and Amy. "Thank you for taking care of him. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. We can bring his prescription tomorrow."

May nodded, before leading Peter toward the elevator, and soon the apartment was filled with a awkward silence.

Ned started to head upstairs, but that's when Amy stopped him by gently grabbing his shoulder.

"You did a good job today. Peter really needed your help."

"Thanks, mom."

"And now you can tell me why you didn't want me to take him to the hospital."

Ned now needed to think up a excuse, and FAST...crap, this wasn't gonna go well.


End file.
